Binding Tithes
by mercurialmaven
Summary: The enterprise has been tasked with a special mission on behalf of the Terran government. With some itching for a fight, thousands of lives in the balance, and a political system collapsing in on itself; what does fate hold in store for humanity?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Binding Tithes  
**Author:** Mercurial Maven  
**Pairings:** Spock/Uhura  
**Characters:** Entire Enterprise Crew,  
**Rating:** NC-17/M  
**Warnings:** Contains graphic language and sexuality in later chapters, as well as violence and mentions of alcohol consumption  
**Spoilers:** Starts at the end of the movie and assumes that readers have seen it and thus knows about the tragedy of Vulcan  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek, nor any characters affiliated with or created by Gene Roddenberry or his development team. There are no profits to be made from the writing of this story. All original characters, however, are distinct property of the Mercurial Maven in all of their incarnations, connotations, faults, failings, and fuck ups.  
**Summary:**The Enterprise has been asked to complete a special mission on behalf of the Earth government, taking them to depths of space and culture they could have never expected. With officials itching for a fight , thousands of human lives at risk, and political systems coming to collapse; what does the future hold for not only Spock and Nyota, but Earth as well?

This 'New Vulcan' wasn't the same. Not in the least. Not with Orion traders bringing illicit goods into dark corners where V'tosh Ka'tur roamed in open air for all to see. No, this planet was not home, nor would it ever be. As much as S'ylik attempted to convince himself that he did not represent the undesirables of his home world, he couldn't help but feel that he only belonged here because all of them had nowhere else to go.

It was this constant inner battle that took him to the seedy pub of Lars, a local Ferengi 'tradesman' turned tavern host, who helped fence merchandise for those who could offer him a sound profit.

"Back again I see." Lars smiled, baring rows of uneven jagged teeth, the tell-tale sign of harried self filing. " For someone who talks so big about the Honor of Vulcan, you certainly fill my pockets with credits."

S'ylik ignored him, unwilling to dignify his accusations with a response. While most of the elders and their 'aristocratic houses' were busy postulating Surak in the main cities, it was he and fellow 'low laborers' who kept the planet's markets thriving with food and needed goods. He was no noble. He didn't sit on the High Council, or attend the Science Academy. He was just a common Vulcan, and even on New Vulcan it did not feel like enough.

As men outnumbered women following the old world's destruction, there was a long list of eligible males waiting to have a chance at mating with one of their own. S'ylik did not bother wasting his time. What kind of genes could a man who turned dirt offer the next generation?

Instead he sat in this socially stained bar, his back rigid and his mind alert. Lars' was known for being a place of 'rough business' and 'highly inappropriate' behavior. It seemed as if, every day, some new gang fight or challenge erupted from the closed, damp, den. S'ylik could disappear in here, or at least try to, before drowning another day of disappointment in a cup of fermented cocoa for the long ride home.

"I'm not adding this to your tab you know. You already owe me 20 credits." Lars sneered, slamming the cup onto the counter. S'ylik raised his eyebrow in question, tilting his head slightly to the side. Lars hands came to rest on the bar as he leaned forward, invading his personal space far more than necessary, and allowing his fetid meat and wine stenched breath to wash over the Vulcan's senses.

"That game." He continued, keeping his voice only slightly above a whisper. "You cheated me in that damned game." The accusation ended in a high pitched hiss, as his eyes swept amongst his patrons to insure that none heard him.

As if a light went off in his memory, S'ylik capitulated. "If you are referring to Va'Asau. I did not cheat you. I am just better at mathematics than you are."

To be fair, the Ferengi stood just as good a chance at winning than the undereducated farmer; especially when there were credits on the line. As much as S'ylik abhorred the idea of wasting money on something as irrational as gambling, when the braggart drunkenly chose Va'Asau, a game most Vulcans played as children it almost seemed stupid not to make an easy 20 credits.

The object was relatively simple, if one knew how to multiply and trip up their partner. One person would pick a number and then 'double' it by squaring or multiplication of two, the next person would then 'double' that number, and it continued, back and forth, until someone finally conceded defeat. Lars had been exceedingly generous with the fermented cocoa that day and longed for the bragging rights of saying he had bested a Vulcan at mathematics and made a tiny profit along the way. He had made a habit of playing with fellow patrons and had even almost won a few rounds. But S'ylik and almost any other Vulcan could tell you; Almost never counts.

Lars soon caved, his mind weary after attempting to double 359567. He was 20 credits poorer and, instead of actually handing the monetary funds over, decided to offer S'ylik a tab instead.

As far as S'ylik could remember, he had only purchased one fermented cocoa on that tab.

"Never mind!" Lars growled, flexing his gnarled hand, "Cocoa is expensive. You know how much my importation costs are?"

At that moment a young girl tripped behind the counter, almost toppling in her haste. Two thick braids cascaded over her shoulders, brushing against the floor as she regained her balance.

"Ilani! You stupid wench!" Lars bellowed, raising his hand as if to strike. The young girl winced for only a second before rising, her arms filled with dishes.

"_Larus! Umshulah farr haal eesanhnd!" _She motioned angrily at the entrance to the bar-well where, upon further inspection, one could see a rotting piece of wood jutting dangerously high from it's supposed resting place. Dropping the dishes unceremoniously into a large metal wash basin she continued, "_Fi surat anhala!" _making a slit throat motion with her thumb, she threw her hand up in aggravation and stalked off, the hoots of drunken pub revelers echoing in her departure.

S'ylik, for a moment, seemed perplexed. He was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him or perhaps he had imbibed a bit too much, but a human this far away from Earth could not be a possibility.

"Bah!" Lars grumbled, "It's so hard to find good, exploitable, workers these days. Even when they're slaves." His eyes flicked to the pile of dishes beside him and once again to the annoyed young woman as she wrestled empty cups from brazen customers, questioning her as to whether she was selling more than just ale.

By S'ylik's guess she had to be no taller than 160 meters. She was small, even by humanoid standards, but her arms, taut from another cumbersome load, were muscular and toned.

"Where is she from?" he questioned nonchalantly, lest Lars imagine he had designs on his newly acquired piece of property.

Lars' brow furrowed and his eyes took a mischievous glint. "Earth I think. Somewhere in the desert. So you can bet she cost me a small fortune. It's hard enough to get human slaves, let alone ones slightly acclimated to this brutal heat. She doesn't speak a lick of standard though. It seems like she understands it well enough though. What a waste." His lips curled in disgust. "The Orions promised me a fair deal, a bargain even, and instead I get a whelp who barely listens to me."

Lars rubbed one of his prominent lobes in anguish. "I'd beat her but...well...that's bad for business and if she can't work she's not worth the money I lost to buy her."

If the Earth could miss a single girl one would never know. But humanity slipped further into its own madness, lost in the cascade of new events since the fall of Vulcan, more human beings were merely vanishing, without a trace, and it was beginning to become a problem. What began as a slow trickle, leaked information from outposts and provinces unmonitored by the Earth Government, soon became headline news as more prominent cities' missing persons list grew.

"_Back to you Alice." _A smartly dressed man closed his laser pointer before turning back to the camera.

"_Thanks James. In a shocking development now unfolding in the South Asiatic Allianced Continent, a woman has come forth with another instance of extra-planetary human trafficking. She confesses to selling her two sons to slave traders. The mother of five refused to comment further; stating only that she prayed for the lives of her sons and also that God would forgive her."_

Spock raised an eyebrow as the screen went blank. He turned, slowly, to find Uhura behind him; her fist clenching the remote in a death grip as eyes, weary with sadness and anger, glared at the pitch black visage left behind.

"How could anyone do that to their own child? Sell them into slavery and hope that God forgives you?" With an indignant huff, she chucked the remote onto the soft cushions of the chaise by her desk, before sitting haphazardly on the precipice of the coffee table, her head held between her hands. Pounding. Pounding. That was the only way she could describe how her skull felt at that moment.

At the urging of the Earth Government the Enterprise crew found themselves, not taking the much needed vacation they longed for, but instead on a more-or-less secret assignment investigating the growing slave trade's reaches into the Earth population. In a way, Nyota was a bit irate. Slavery had always been a problem in the galaxy. In her conversations with other species, she had heard horror stories about how slaves were treated. How whole generations could be trapped in permanent bondage. How easy it was for a dominating force to crush a population until all that was left were hollow shells of what once was; entire cultures and civilizations turned to nothing but rags and ruin.

It wasn't a problem before, she mused angrily, until humans were being effected. Earth's population continued to grow outlandishly. Even with all of the technological advances, this was no techno-fairytale. People still died every day from starvation, hunger, and violence. Nyota snorted. While she reaped the benefits of how far their society had come, she had her own memories of seeing villages beyond her sheltered existence where mothers held babies in one arm and Projectile Rifles in the other. A constant reminder of human imperfection.

"One can never understand another's motivations Nyota, merely attempt to learn from them." Spock replied. He remained seated, respectful of not only her need to vent, but how wary she was of physical contact when she became riled.

"You know...I could really do without the Buddha bullshit right now." She rose impatiently, took her seat at her desk and tapped a few keys into her PADD before narrowing her eyes.

"I know this entire situation angers you, but we cannot allow our vision to be clouded by our emotions." Spock continued, finally standing and walking towards her. His hands twitched imperceptibly behind his back. "Consider your role to play in closing this chapter of galactic history. In 10 hours we will be embarking for the Orion Sector, a dangerous enough proposition on its own."

"That's for damn sure..." Uhura mumbled, before raising her eyes to meet Spock's. She knew he abhorred these moments, when her temperament got the best of her better judgment. Why did he always have to be the one to rationalize her fear, anger, hatred, and annoyance? She would like to be there for him in much the same capacity that he was, so often, there for her. "Spock..." she let out an exasperated sigh and tilted her head back until it rested over the back of the seat, "I'm sorry."

She looked back at him again, worrying her bottom lip beneath her teeth. "I know, there isn't anything I can do from this position and I know snapping at you won't fix it. I just..." She blinked rapidly, attempting to regain some form of emotional control. Recognizing this as a moment when she would, most likely, need comfort Spock came around the desk and gently pulled her up and into his embrace, resting her head against his chest.

"I do not understand your anger, but I wish to be of assistance in alleviating it." Nyota nodded mutely, fisting her hands into his shirt. Of course he would not understand. Slavery was a part of nearly every society's existence and had been for tens of thousands of years. Constant rage at such situations was illogical. But this mission, this perilous circumstance upon which they had all been thrust, was swallowing her whole and threatening to tear apart the fabric of a reality she envisioned would be so different now that she was in Star Fleet. Once again, reality had other plans.

Spock was right. In 10 hours they would have to depart. The ship had been restocked and fitted with upgraded shields and warp nacelles. The entire crew was pensive and avoided looking their crew members too lengthily in the eye. Even Kirk had decided it was best to dismiss everyone from pre-mission meetings early so that they could rest and prepare for the time ahead.

She didn't protest as Spock led her into her sleeping quarters and began to undress her. She needed a bath and at that thought, she laughed softly and watched under half-lidded eyes as his nimble fingers deftly worked the zippers on her boots.

"May I inquire as to what you find so amusing?" Spock asked, applying light pressure to her stomach to get her to sit down.

"I was just thinking about how much I reek. I don't think I've showered in 2 or 3 days." She crinkled her nose as each boot slid off, as if they had been waiting to do so all day. His hands traveled deftly up her thighs, ghosting under the curves of her knees to rest at her garters. Nyota couldn't help but smirk. She knew thigh highs drove him insane. Though he was too reserved to ever say so vocally, his appreciation was easily noticed in the way he'd snap the tiny straps before dislodging them from the stockings they held up.

All too quickly the sheer hose were rolling down her legs and off her feet, before being neatly placed beside her on the bed.

"I must admit." Spock began, his fingers tracing the delicate hem of the garter belt itself before releasing the hooks at the side. "While I normally find your natural scent to be quite intoxicating. It seems that, at this time you do in fact 'reek'." He allowed a hint of a smile to grace his lips as Uhura shrieked in mock outrage and swatted him on the shoulder. Through bubbling laughter she lifted her hips to allow him to pull the satiny belt out from under her. Deftly pulling her dress over her head, she reached back, unfastened her bra, and shimmied out of his way to stand by the bathroom door.

"You should shower with me. We might not get a chance for awhile." She switched to the ball of one foot and gazed upon him coquettishly. Spock may have been Vulcan, but he was no fool to human female mating signals. He highly doubted he'd be clean for very long.

In two steps he was next to her, reaching up to pull the tie that held her hair in place.. He adored the sight of it tumbling, in a single raven wave, down her shoulders to brush beneath her breasts; as if the gods themselves required her modesty to stop their lustful thoughts. She lifted onto her toes, pressing her lips softly to his before turning on her heels and heading for the shower.

Taking one last look at the chronometer on the wall, he followed her in. As long as they got at least 6 hours of sleep, they would be fine.

End Notes:

**Ilani's Language**- Is an entirely made of tongue. LOL! It's a poorly cobbled mixture of Arabic and nonsense, that said, she's a character that will never get translations as the clues to her dialogue can generally be found in the following paragraph or how the character she is interacting with responds.

**Sylik- **More will be learned about S'ylik as the story progresses, but he will be among the 'Lost But Now Reclaimed" of Neo Vulcan, alleged and prosecuted V'tosh Ka'Tur that were called back to the new settlement upon the destruction of Vulcan.

**Ferengis on Vulcan? Madness!- **I don't think so. Even Vulcans would, logically, recognize that they'd have to account for the appetites and predilections of ALL of their populace if they want any chance at reunification. Aside from that, a closed economy of roughly 10,000 persons attempting to work all aspects of Galactic trade would be...nearly impossible. Some people HAVE to do the muck work and I also think in the chaos of reunification and settlement, a few things would just slip through the cracks.

**Humans as Slaves?- **Humans are considered evolutionarily backward. While most species have grown rigid in their biology, incapable of adapting to even the slightest change in their environments; human beings adapt, within reason, quite readily. That, combined with our ability to problem solve in unconventional ways, while also able to be controlled with a bare minimum of physical force, makes us a good choice for those on other planets seeking slaves. Lars paying a pretty penny for a human slave would not be so far out of the question.

Reviews and critiques more than welcome! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

In S'ylik's expert opinion, the soil here was much more difficult to manipulate. Dispersing the hardened clump and sand and clay between his fingers, he brought a hand back up to examine his work space. The climate, while still insufferably hot to most, was not nearly as detrimental as the unbearable heat of the old world. While his plomeek crops would, undoubtedly, do well he was eager to see how some of the seeds he imported from Earth would fare. Pomegranates, figs, dates, artichokes- all plants he had never heard of but that were deemed acceptable for desert growing; not to mention the exoticism of the yields would lend a nice profit in the markets.

Upon thinking of the planet so far away, yet so deeply entrenched in all of their survival, S'ylik's recollection returned to the young woman under Lars' employ. The whole situation did not sit well with him. Slaves on Neo-Vulcan was something he never would have expected, and he wondered how it would effect the ability of those who were there legally to find work. Further more, what kind of repercussions would it have for their home if it ever got out that slave labor was making its way to this new, reformed, paradise?

Best to not dwell on it. With this new life came new opportunities and S'ylik set about digging through the pile of bulbs next to his greenhouse; the growing season would soon kick into full force. The suns of dusk felt comforting against his skin and he set rhythm as he began turning each calculated square into a trench. This was going to be a very long night.

"Chekov!" Kirk swaggered to the Captain's chair, plopping down unceremoniously. "Set our course for the Orion sector. We'll have to make a stop at Solaris V of course, but let's get this show on the road."

"Yes Captain but..." Chekov started anxiously, his fingers pausing.

"What? Spit it out." Kirk's brow creased. The entire bridge crew watched their exchange.

"We should probably wait for Mr. Spock and Sir." Pavel finished quickly, his sentence let out in one long breath that left him red by the end of it.

"Right you are!" Kirk pressed his hand to his com-link just in time for the turbo lift doors to slide open and the missing officers in question to enter the bridge. "You're late!" He accused the pair.

Nyota lowered her eyes instantly and shuffled quickly to her seat, ignoring the slight brush across her back by Spock's fingers as he took his position. Embarrassment would not be the correct word to express how they both felt at the moment. Having tossed an extra two hours of sleep to the wind, the couple were exhausted, but sated; ready to begin their current mission and face what ever dangers lay ahead of them.

"My apologies Sir." Nyota offered, inserting the COMbud into her ear. "It will not happen again."

Spock's eyebrow quirked up and a slight smirk graced the corner of his lips. Kirk stared at both of them momentarily before giving the order to engage thrusters and pull out of the bay. He would press Spock further once they reached deep space. For now, it was more important that he maintain some form of good humor. The entire ship was tense. Their current course could take them, not only into territory they may have been ill equipped for, but into war.

The Earth's government promised full cooperation with Starfleet, urging them only to engage in discussions with the syndicalist they had contacted for this meeting. The Enterprise and her crew were guaranteed diplomatic immunity within the Orion Sector and promised that legislators would, in no way, interfere with the negotiations process. The rules of engagement were simple; attempt to get the informant to divulge information about slave traders trafficking humans from Earth, in exchange for any number of economic benefit or leverage options.

The Syndicate, itself, was new and struggling to assert it's position as a viable galactic force. If there was some way for this entire issue to be resolved peacefully, than the entire situation could be effected as painlessly as possible. Kirk squirmed, uncomfortably, in his seat. He knew these kinds of missions could go sour without a moment's notice and thought back to stories he had heard of Orion treachery.

Pirates were known to hijack ships and take inhabitants hostage in an attempt to use their lives as bargaining chips. Original terms could be shredded with the mere flick of a wrist- The Klingons had lost a valuable player in their politics a few years prior during such an incident, and while they depended on Orions to provide them with valuable imports, they never trusted them again.

The bridge stayed in relative silence for a few moments, before the Communications station let out it's sharp trill, signalling an incoming transmission.

"Captain sir. We have an incoming transmission from Congressman Eldrich Shaw." Nyota pursed her lips. What could a congressman possibly have to say to them? Especially so early in their trip.

"Put him through Lieutenant."

"Captain Kirk." An older gentleman with a care worn face and kind eyes beamed widely at the young crew before him.

"Greetings congressman, that I am and this is my bridge crew. How may we be of assistance to you?" Kirk clicked the end of the pen he held in his hand, a nervous habit he picked up in academy. Since then, he always kept one resting on the arm rest of his chair, in case he needed it.

"I am merely wanting to wish your crew good luck in these endeavors and offer you my assistance in any way possible." Kirk smiled gently and motioned towards Uhura.

"I thank you sir, but as you see, we have one of the best linguists on Earth with us. She's also very adept in the studies of cultural nuance and influence. I'm sure we'll be fine and, worst case scenario, we can simply contact Earth's ambassador and arrange for him to meet us at the rendezvous location."

Shaw followed the broad, sweeping, motion of Kirk's hand until his eyes finally settled on the young Uhura. They took in her countenance and it became quite evident to everyone on the bridge that he was not impressed.

"I'm sorry Captain. I do not mean to downplay the young woman's accomplishments, but we must bear in mind what is in Earth's best interest in regards to these matters." He shifted in his seat, his face losing the soft lines of gentility and replacing them with the hardened planes of a politician.

Kirk raised in eyebrow in silent challenge. This was merely a negotiatory meeting, meant to find out if the Orion Sydicate could do anything to stop the blight that was currently rearing its head on Terran soil.

"I guess I fail to understand what you mean Mr. Shaw. We are under the impression that these are talks, meant to create solid foundations between the Orions and ourselves, while also protecting our people."

The bridge grew deathly silent. The breath of the room seemed to leave in that fleeting instant, replaced with the monitoring sounds of navigation and the occasional shuffling of clothing.

"While I understand that your crew is young and therefore, naive to the realities of interstellar politics, these talks need to end with Earth receiving the most for its cooperation with these...criminals. And they are criminals _Captain._" Shaw spoke the title with an air of distaste. "They have no culture. Not one worth catering to or preserving for that matter. My constituents and I look to bring these Orion savages to heel by any means necessary. Yes, talk to them, attempt to placate them with small offers of amnesty for past crimes or insignificant trade agreements, but remember _your_ place as well Kirk. You serve Earth and her allies, these negotiations must not put any of us at risk or deprive us of the station that we've fought so hard to maintain. Costing Earth, could cost more than you think."

Kirk's eyes narrowed dangerously and he raised a finger, signaling to Uhura that, soon, their communication with their 'willing helper' would be coming to an end.

"While I appreciate your concern in regards to how we conduct this mission, I must remind you of _your _place . You are a politician, _temporarily _put into office by god knows who and why. You have no say in these affairs and if you have issue with how Starfleet and the Terran government has opted to handle this endeavor, than I suggest you take those issues to them. Else, why don't you leave the intricacies of this tenuous situation to us? I'm sure you have some black tie dinner to attend where your talents would be much more recognized. Thank you sir. Kirk out."

The screen went blank and he sat for a few moments to collect his thoughts. The first shift would be coming to an end, all the better considering he needed a short break and a chance to speak to his second in command.

"Scotty, Chekov, keep her going steady until your replacements arrive. Spock, may I have a word with you?" He stopped by Spock's console on his way out, the pen still clutched nervously in his hand. Spock nodded curtly and followed him out, but not before he cut his eyes to Uhura and gave an imperceptible acknowledgment that he would fill her in on everything he knew as soon as he was able.

The turbo lift ride was silent, save for the occasional moments when Kirk would open his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it firmly and go back to rocking on his heels and studying the bland patterns of the wall. 

Upon entering his office, he felt it was necessary to get the first issue out of the way first.

"You two were late. I know it was an accident and something that will never happen again, but you need to make sure it never happens again. If my two best are noticed to be slacking, even once or twice, the whole crew will follow."

"Of course Captain." Spock agreed. Folding his hands behind his back, he observed Kirk for a few moments before speaking again. "But that is not the only reason you have brought me here."

"No! Of course it isn't! What the fuck was that!" Kirk exclaimed, walking to the nearest cabinet to pour himself a small sip of brandy. The burning liquid soothed the discomfort he felt in his gut and he turned around, bracing his hands against the head of his leather chair. "Since when are politicians involved in the goings on of a Federation vessel Spock? It doesn't make any sense."

"That it does not." Spock noted. He allowed his eyes to fall to the carpet while his mind processed the encounter. They'd be arriving in the region of Solaris V in a little more than 25 hours. It would the last chance the Syndicate had of backing out, changing its terms, or attempting to reschedule. They would maintain orbit for one day after that and then proceed to Orion itself. "There is probably more to this than we know. Perhaps it would be best to contact Starfleet and find out which government officials are aware of this mission. I believed we performing this in complete secrecy from outside influence."

Kirk nodded, "I did too. Shit. How deep do you think we've gotten ourselves into this?"

"With all due respect Captain, if you knew would you abort this mission?" Spock raised an eyebrow and took a few tentative steps towards the door.

"Of course not." Kirk replied with a slight laugh, "You know I don't believe in no-win scenarios Spock."

Nyota paced her room, fervently wringing her hands and almost bowled Spock over as he entered.

"So what did he say?" She asked, her body language showing a state of excitement too powerful for her to offer the soothing embraces he had, quietly hoped, would await him.

Spock disentangled her fingers from his arm and brought her palms to his side, pulling her close.

"The Captain wishes that we do not become repeat offenders when it comes to tardiness." Hoping she was satisfied he lowered his head, his lips seeking at least one small kiss to start their evening, but Nyota was not to be distracted.

"I'm not talking about that." She said, pecking him quickly before putting an extra three inches of distance between them so that she could look him in the eye. "What did he say about that assho- I mean, congressman."

So yes, she was definitely still upset about him insulting her prowess. Spock mentally shrugged and accepted his fate of having to deal with this Klingon Inquisition before he might even be able to enjoy a moment of tender silence.

"He is, as Terrans would say, as much in the dark as the rest of us. He has no idea how Shaw knew we were heading for talks with the Orions in the first place. He will be speaking with someone from Starfleet tomorrow."

"That's it?" Nyota looked deflated, but noticed that Spock too seemed to be a bit disappointed. Closing the gap between them she walked two fingers up his abdomen and chest before pressing them to his lips. "Thank you."

She studied his eyes, now half closed and his features showed the pure, unadulterated, enjoyment he got out of the simple act. She knew they were both exhausted, but that he also had probably been looking forward to more than an interrogation upon returning to her and she was determined to thank him for his patience.

**Author's Notes: **

Smut will definitely be appearing in the next chapter you horn dogs so be patient with me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Binding Tithes: Chapter 3**

**Author's Note: **This whole chapter is all smut and nothing but the smut. Plot will come back in the next chapter. I promise. **  
**

If there was one thing Spock found more pleasing than being right, it was being naked beneath the woman he had taken as his lover. Her body shifted against his, the weight of her thighs applying just the right amount of pressure to his hips. That sweet agony she drew out of him was enough to make him explode with lust, but he maintained his control and exhaled a long held breath before opening his eyes to take in the pleasurable visage before him.

Nyota's mind was wandering, not fully focused, even as she traced one finger tip delicately over Spock's chest, the meandering digit stopping to stroke one nipple and then the other before drifting up to his jaw. This kind of musing exploration always set her loins on fire and she relished in the sensation of rocking her hips against his erection, encouraging the slickness between her legs to grow and create that delicious slippery friction that could almost make her cum on its own.

"Nyota," Spock murmured, allowing his hands to slowly wander up her thighs and to the curve of her waist. He ground his glans against her signaling his need more. "You are teasing me..."

Nyota smiled, the languid grin of a Cheshire Cat, and leaned down allowing her lips to flit over his, "No my love. I am taking my time. Don't you like it?" She accented this question with another luxurious hip roll and pressed her lips to his neck. Gods yes, he did like it. He liked it more than he liked being right. Or had he already had that thought?

Unwilling to remain a passive participant, Spock forcefully flipped them to place himself in the dominant position. He gently took one nipple into his mouth, lavishing the peak with the tip of his tongue, before pulling away and blowing gently on the moistened nub.

"Ah!" Nyota's reaction was instantaneous. She had no idea when Spock had learned that she loved that tiny act, but whenever he did it, it sent a wave of lucid carnality straight to her center. His mouth returned to her other breast, covering it in humid warmth and sensuously suckling, causing her to arch her back into his ministrations. She tangled her hands in his hair, silently imploring him to continue.

His hands rested on both sides of her and unconsciously he found himself using her drenched labia as a masturbatory aid, allowing his shaft to slip past her folds and onto the damp bedspread beneath her. Nyota's mind wandered to a time in her youth when, she and her first boyfriend, had dry humped through their gym clothes. It had been deliciously naughty, a sinful haze of delectable sensation that was heightened by cultural taboo and the fear of getting caught.

But this? This was much more satisfying. Spock's hands were strumming a perfect melody against her, already pulsing, clit and was threatening to send her over the edge before she even got a chance to sheath him inside of her. As if sensing her pending orgasm he brought his hand to a slower pace, reveling in her writhing, helplessly, beneath his finger tips.

"I waited for this all day." He began, "You should have seen the look on your face when Shaw made his..." he smirked and bent forward to lick the space between her breasts "suggestions." He allowed a chuckle to rumble through his chest and inhaled her taste and scent with his senses.

Nyota let out a throaty moan and tilted her head to regard her lover from under half-lidded eyes. "And your gallant defense was most rewarding." A sharp gasp swiftly followed as Spock nipped her throat with his teeth, tugging a bit of flesh with him; a playful reprisal for her accusation.

"Nothing would have brought more satisfaction than correcting his ignorance." His hand drifted between them and aided in positioning him at her entrance. With an agonizing slowness he pushed himself into her, shuddering at the ripples of incalescence that coursed through him, and enjoying the way her body clenched to him, hungrily dragging him in.

It was like drowning in an unquenchable sea of pure aphrodisia. Wanton abandon became the only language they both spoke as he picked up his rhythm. Nyota's arms clung to him tirelessly, her mouth begging for acts her vocal chords could not pronounce. Faster. More. Harder. Please. Don't stop. Yes. A crescendo of salacious desire and stress, turned into a torrid ball and hurled into the core of their existence.

Everything and nothing seemed to happen at once. The blur of sex, heightened by the fear of the unknown. So much like the past, but so glorious in its present state. Her hands raked down his back, coaxing groans of prurient ecstasy in their wake, before falling to his buttocks that clenched and unclenched with each harsh thrust.

Rise and fall, tides of orgasmic intensity; it was coming so close to a head that both stopped breathing, reaching for that tangible manifestation of their shared passion. Nyota tensed, her inner walls grasping for those final tormenting touches that would send her over the edge. Her head tipped back, her breasts pitching towards the air, as the long held breath escaped from her in a keening wail, her body turning itself over to the crest of the final wave and crashing back into reality with a euphoric splash.

Spock watched in amazement, his vision clouded by the sight before him; Nyota, his Nyota, covered in sweat while mumbling and writhing beneath him in her post-orgasm fog. He wanted to meet her, be where she was in her Dionysian trance. He barely heard himself as his shallow grunts turned more ferocious and his hips gained a will of their own. His fists clenched into the mattress and he too tumbled into oblivion, a rush of seed spilling from him into the womb he had claimed as his own.

They curled into one another, Nyota running her fingers over the smooth expanse of his stomach and resting them just above his navel. Spock considered the coming mission, knowing he had hidden most of his concerns from her.

"Something's bothering you." She had always been so perceptive. Spock smiled inwardly. It's what made their relationship work. She never needed him to express everything verbally and was completely able to ascertain his moods by his breathing or the way he'd remain pensively silent instead of comfortably so.

Spock allowed himself a moment to regain his composure before speaking, "There is a chance that the secrecy behind this mission may be beyond compromised, and as such, there could be more people negatively involved than I, or anyone, originally thought."

He felt, rather than saw, Nyota nod against his chest. "If this is political," she said softly, "than the best interest of everyone may not remain at the forefront. But..." Her brow knit together, "Who could possibly be invested in the trafficking of humans off world?"

Spock's eyes fell to the chronometer, a place to hold his contemplative stare as his fingers laced through her hair. "It will be cataclysmic when we reach our conclusions. This individual would be a greater enemy to us than anyone could imagine the Orion Syndicate to be."


	4. Chapter 4

Morning light crept between hand tilled rows and spilled onto a figure splayed out, rather undignified, on the crumbling soil. S'ylik brought his hand to his eyes and peered through his fingers. These suns and this sky was so different from what he was used to. The sky began as an abnormal deep violet as dawn approached, before tendrils of fuschia spilled over the horizon to mingle with the rolling clouds.

Every morning, almost by decree, these clouds swathed the parched land, swirling thick and heavy on the ground. They toured the landscape, leaving behind thick droplets of strangely scented dew in their wake. At first, Sylik had been concerned for the well being of his crops, but the plants seemed to thrive on the early morning moisture, and soon he found himself standing amongst the coming green, waiting to be bathed in these fleeting waters of life.

As the suns continued their dancing ascent, the sky burst; first into a stunning display of orange before settling into an almost whitish blue that stretched endlessly in all directions. It was during this time that he would, usually, set about putting away his tools and either sleeping or heading into town with whatever new yields he had for the markets. With his crops still new and the need for sleep not tugging at his mind, S'ylik surveyed his home before sitting in a nearby chair and considering his current lot in life and the unfathomable loneliness he could never admit to out loud.

He was not bonded and never had been. As an alleged V'Tosh Katur he had lost the right to do so on Vulcan and, while he had had his fair share of amorous encounters off world, none of them had led to anything long term.

He had been involved with, temporarily, a Betazoid at a Sol Station _[1]_ near Solaris V, but when the old world had been destroyed and the edict issued for all to rejoin as brothers and sisters, he could not convince her to live amongst his people.

"You are forever in my heart." D'istra cooed, her hand moving down his face as hers bore the unmistakeable gaze of sadness, "But I cannot live amongst a people who would ostracize me for having a soul and daring to let others know it."

Their final words had been painful for both of them. S'ylik admirably played his role as "The Vulcan." He said her was refusal was logical, that he understood her reservations, and held no ill will towards her for not coming with him. In reality he was furious and heart broken and he suspected that she was aware of his true feelings as she did not come to say goodbye to him when took the first available shuttle to Neo-Vulcan.

Due to his status, he had been given a home on the outskirts of _Keshtan [2], _the new capitol. His prior experience as an agriculturalist convinced the High Council to offer him choice property and promise minimal bureaucratic harassment. S'ylik scowled. As much as he felt a sense of relief being back amongst his people, he missed D'istra in all of her illogical sensibilities and that feeling of isolation seemed to greet him every morning when he came in from the fields or green house.

She would have laughed at the stuffy elders on the high council, turning their noses up at him when they were so close to not even having a people to rule over mere months ago. She would have gloated about how they needed him now, a supposed V'tosh Katur, more than he needed them. She would have been every bit as bitingly witty as he could not have been in that situation and, when they returned to his domicile, she would have stripped naked and eaten ripe fruit with her hands; enjoying his frustration at such behavior.

S'ylik groaned and leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. Despite everything, the good fortune he had found himself in, life still felt increasingly empty. This is what brought him to the drinking hall after a night of meditative employment. He was not bitter. No. Vulcans could never be bitter, but he was disenchanted and the latest developments trickling down from the High Houses was doing little to help his mood. It was this news, and its subsequent effects, that had Lars on edge as S'ylik slipped into his bar and took his usual seat, three stools up from the end.

Without even asking, the Ferengi pulled a small clay cup from under the counter and poured a frothy liquid into it, filling the vessel nearly to the brim. S'ylik's brow rose.

"Don't get used to it." Lars growled. "Guess who paid me a visit today?" He asked, his eyes flitting about the room. There were no new faces, no slumped shoulders that neither man would not recognize, but judging by his bartender's uncomfortable scanning, there had to have been someone new who wasn't interested in drowning their sorrows in exchange for credits.

"I am not familiar with your affairs Lars. You will just have to tell me." S'ylik answered smoothly. He was aware of new 'economic measures', meant to insure "ethics" in the market and assumed these had something to do with Lars' discomfort. He, and anyone not attempting to set themselves up as aristocracy in this new world order, knew these regulations were really about insuring racial and philosophical purity.

"The E.S.C.!" Lars slammed his fist on the bar counter, before turning and pouring himself a cup of synthehol. "They inquired about my books. Poked their pointy noses in my safe. They asked me if I have paid taxes and if I'm registered with the Ferengi Commerce Authority."

"Well..." S'ylik began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are you?"

"Of course not you moron!" Lars exclaimed, before bringing his voice back down to something resembling normalcy. "The only thing that kept me from being in really thick earwax was the girl being at the market square."

And there lay another problem. While the Economic Securities Council had prohibited the importing of neurotoxins, phytonarcotics, and other items, explicitly against _superior _Vulcan sensibilities; slavery still remained a muted subject. Every once in awhile there would be a new leak; some aristocratic house found harboring "house servants" who _weren't_ paid. The rumors died just as quickly as they began, but an off-worlder facing similar circumstances would be made an example of.

Vulcans could not be bitter, S'ylik mused to himself, but they could be hypocrites. "Aside from your dubious methods of procuring employees. I am sure everything else is in impeccable order."

"Don't tease me _kre'nath [3]_. They're only sniffing at my heels because the people in the main cities are growing restless. There's little to no work and people that haven't had to even so much as speak to each other, are now having to live as neighbors." Lars wrung out a dirty cloth in the metal washbasin behind him and commenced to swiping the cloth across the bar, "It'd be sweet if I didn't know it was all bullshit. They're looking for a scapegoat. But they won't make one out of Lars of Ferenginar."

"Is that why you've poured me a level drink? Your concern that the E.S.C. will discover you've been overcharging your customers?"

The tinkling of the door chime alerted them both to someone entering. Lars growled and pointed toward the kitchen as Ilani juggled two armfuls of baskets. _"Tik Falu."_ she mumbled, using her hip to nudge the door open.

"I heard you!" Lars bellowed, pointing at his ears "and I know what that means!"

A low rumble coursed through S'ylik's chest before erupting in a short "Hn." at his exhalation. "Do you really?"

"No." Lars murmured. Making a jerking motion with his head towards the back room, "But I think I can make her believe I do."

"I was under the impression that slavery went against the Rules of Acquisition." S'ylik questioned, tilting his head to the side to observe him with skepticism.

"Ah. You, like many ignorant fools, fail to completely understand the Rules of Acquisition while constantly quoting them. Ferengi do not do planetary enslavement. We will not spend latinum to conquer a world and take it over. That is a waste of resources as you end up spending more to maintain than what you could possibly gain from the use of the people." Lars leaned forward, resting his arm on the counter, "But, if I purchase a slave, I haven't spent anymore than one would spend on a regular employee. Only the employee will complain to labor boards and ask for better wages."

"And owning a slave puts you at risk of being sentenced to a work camp, or worse, deported for human trafficking within Federation territory."

S'ylik had seen Lars' many personal quirks since their acquaintance as patron/barkeep had begun, yet this was the first time he had ever seen him wince. Lars was in a very precarious situation, and with the E.S.C. snooping around, it would be only a matter of time before they would discover his living, breathing, secret.

This must have been why the Ferengi continued to fill his confidant's cup, not even allowing it to go half empty before putting another splash of fermented cocoa on top of the dying froth at the top.

"That's why I need a favor."

"We are 1.5 parsecs from Solaris V Captain." Chekov announced, his fingers momentarily halting over his navigational display. Despite the rather odd interruption at the beginning of their voyage, the rest of the journey had proceeded without a hitch and they were completely on schedule.

Kirk had yet to contact Starfleet about the incident involving Congressman Shaw, and decided that, perhaps waiting until they actually arrived at Solaris would be the best way to go. Such decisiveness would show that, despite such a jarring experience, the Enterprise crew was not phased enough to need instruction as to how to proceed. They would continue in their mission undaunted and ask questions later.

"Sir..." Nyota's eyebrow raised as she turned from her console. We are being hailed via transmission by an unidentified Bird of Prey from the region of Solaris V."

Kirk stood, and walked towards the view finder before turning back to Uhura. "That can't be good." He said, a pensive half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Mr. Spock? Why would a Klingon be in this sector? And why would they be hailing us?"

Spock's eyes drifted to the floor, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts and consider the logic of the situation. "Perhaps it is not a Klingon Captain. Birds of Prey are inexpensive and easy to procure-"

"That is a good point Sir," Chekov piped in excitedly, "I did some research on Birds of Prey before I left for the academy and they are almost like American Ford cars from pre- 21st century, buckets of junk but easy to modify . They are often acquired by those incapable of obtaining Federation standard space craft."

"And that's why I like to keep a team of dedicated scientists with me at all time." Kirk returned to his seat. "Lt. Uhura, patch our communique through. Mr. Sulu, calculate the trajectory we would need to enter Solarian orbit using the moon belt as cover, and finally Chekov?"

"Yes Captain?"

"Fords aren't buckets of junk."

**Footnotes:**

_[1] _Sol Stations are biodome communities located on large asteroids or moons that would, other wise, be inhospitable to humanoid life. Most are completely autonomous and created by pirates, peoples escaping persecution, or various factions of outlaws seeking to escape prosecution/extradition. Because Sol Stations rarely have any resources worth noting (aside from what people need to live on) most are never raided/invaded and non-Federation species/governments/planets gladly align themselves with them, if only for the purpose of laundering money. Not cannon. I made this up.

_[2] Keshtan- _Means "birth" in Vulcan, and seems a fitting name for the capitol of Neo-Vulcan. Not Canon.

_[3] Kre'nath- _Bastard _[Vulcan Language Dictionary]_


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the length of time with no update and the shortness of the chapter. I had a serious case of writer's block when it came to this story and just DID not know how to proceed. But! I think I'm back on the wagon now. All reviews welcome, even ones that say this story blows. LOL!

**Binding Tithes Chapter 5**

"Patching communication through sir." Uhura turned to face Kirk, giving a slight nod in his direction as a young, azure hued, woman's face filled the view screen. Jim's eyebrow noticably rose and a salacious grin began to spread across his lips, before collapsing into his approximation of a look of "business."

"Greetings Enterprise." The woman smirked, tilting her head to the side to play with one of the dangling earrings that added to her exotic airs. Her eyes studied the bridge crew, first resting on Chekov and, upon realizing he had probably just entered puberty, drifting to Jim in all of his masculine glory. "I am Jaoxan. I believe we were meant to rendezvous?"

Jim Kirk was a lot of things; a whore, a drunkard at times, but he was not dumb and he highly doubted that this "Joaxan" was who they were supposed to be meeting. Something about her demeanor seemed off, like she was a mistress of distraction. Or perhaps just someone's mistress. _"Easy Jim..." _he chided himself inwardly, "_Let's keep the hormones in check." _Hormones were funny things when it came to Orions.

"You would be correct." He lifted in his seat slightly, tugging his shirt down by its hem. "We will be approaching Solaris V in less than 3 hours to begin preliminary discussion." This was the test, or at least, his best attempt at one. Were she their syndicate contact she would know that their negotiations weren't to begin for another 2 days. However; were she a simple pirate, snapping up and hacking transmissions for profit, she'd attempt to get something out of the deal now as opposed to trying to drag out her con game.

"You do not have to worry _p'alit[1]. _My cohorts have made me well aware of your itinerary for this journey. I have managed to set up a supply delivery for your ship on a Sol Station in your trajectory." Jaoxan licked her lips, allowing the action to belie just how pleasant speaking to Kirk was for her. "We shall rendezvous there. My cohorts wish to know what you have to offer before they..." she appeared to choose her words carefully "trouble you with journeying so far into Orion territory."

"You mean they wish to insure we're not going to screw them." Click. Click. The pen twirled once again between his fingers.

A rich peel of laughter bubbled past Joaxan's lips "You terrans are so amusing with your colloquialisms. But trust me Captain of the Enterprise, James Tiberius Kirk, if we had little faith in you or your motives, your ship would be floating pieces in space; ornaments against the backdrop of the vacuum."

Spock's ears perked at the, none to veiled, threat. He had very little experience with Orions, save Uhura's former roommate, but he was well aware of how dangerous they were. While much of the galaxy chose to view them as oversexed violent burnouts, they were also known for the deadly cunning. The fact that this liaison knew Kirk's full name was a show of just how far reaching their influence, and knowledge, really was. They would have to play their hand carefully and she was insuring that they realized that she too held a full hand.

Choosing to ignore the barb hurled his way, Kirk chose to change the topic and allow the slight tension that had crept into the crew's consciousness to ebb into a pensive discomfort. "This Sol Station. Why are you having us go there instead of to Solaris V?"

Joaxan's brow furrowed before smoothing. Did she not expect that particular question? "Solaris V is...not stable at the moment."

"She's lyin'..." Scotty mumbled under his breath, attempting to turn the insult into a disguised cough. Joaxan's eyes flashed and quickly snapped to him.

"If you doubt my words than you can attempt to dock with Solaris, but I can promise you this; the Federation did a large disservice sending a ship filled with children to handle this delicate matter. You have no idea what you are up against and your enemies are many..."

"We are aware," Kirk began, "that there are those within the syndicate that wish to maintain the current slave trade in order to further their own economic gains-"

"Ha! Typical Terran arrogance!" she interrupted, leaning forward in her seat and glaring directly into Kirk's eyes. "Do you ever think, James, that it is your own people who wish to maintain the slave trade? Of course you do not. If the blood is red than it must be pure. Well the blood of these human cattle runs on many hands, Captain of the Enterprise, and the entire Federation revolves around the survival of two moons and three suns. The rest of us just facilitate your endeavors."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Joaxan laughed, stretching towards her console just enough to give a tantalizing view of her ample cleavage, "If you do not know by now, I pray you do not find out. You are expected at Sol Station Delta 56M, do not be late. Joaxan out."

The screen went blank and for a few moments, confusion tinged with fear mingled with the stilled breath of the bridge. As if remembering that breathing was necessary, Chekov was the first to let his out in an exaggerated "Oooph..."

"Two moons and three suns...two moons... What the hell does that mean? Who are our enemies on Earth..."

"Perhaps..." Uhura began, raising herself from her seated position to lean against the railing separating her from the Captain's chair, "Perhaps it's some kind of glyph or a flag? A motto?"

"It'll be your job to find out. I'll release you from your shift early so you can begin investigation immediately."

"Captain, Sir." Spock interrupted, "As it stands we have not been assigned the task of chasing down the meaning of political riddles. We also have not deciphered whether it is wise to engage in this acceptance of a shipment from the Sol Station Delt 56M."

"Mr. Spock. Are we not supposed to be meeting to put an end to the slave trade?"

"Technically, yes Sir."

"And were we to get to the bottom of this riddle, is it not _logical _ to conclude that we could nip this in the bud instead of just snipping at the leaves?"

"I fail to see what gardening has to do with this situation. Lt. Uhura is our finest communications officer and will, more than likely, be necessary upon our entrance into planetary orbit. As it stands we cannot trust the words of this Joaxan and we could, very well, be headed into a trap."

"A trap?"

"It is a high probability."

Kirk's eyes narrowed and, like a petulant toddler, he plopped unceremoniously back into his chair and whirled it around the face the view finder. "Would it make you feel better if I waited until we entered Solarian orbit and contacted Star Fleet before I proceeded to the Sol Station?"

Spock wished, at that moment, that he had the ability to roll his eyes. As it stood, he bore his Captain with patience, intent on getting everyone back to work as quickly as possible. "Feelings are irrelevant Captain. We must do what is rational."

"Very well Mr. Spock. Lt. Uhura you're relieved of duty to perform research on that...phrase and Chekov, continue our current course to Solaris V. If Joaxan checks out we'll head to the station. Sulu, contact Mr. Scott and make sure he knows to keep our auxiliary shields on stand by."

A light cough stopped him in the middle of his flurry of orders. "What Mr. Spock? You get your straight path to Solaris V and I get my curiosity tickled. Everyone's happy. It's only logical."

[1] _P'alit- _A made up "Orion" word, which I wanted to convey contextually to mean "sweetheart" but said in a very patronizing way. This word is not canon.


End file.
